


loveliest of trees

by soudont



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, F/M, Murder, Sad Ending, butch is mourning, hes OLD yall, this was for an assignment but i ended up making fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 07:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17699957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soudont/pseuds/soudont
Summary: The cherry now is hung with bloom along the bough.





	loveliest of trees

He wasn't sure what made her do it. All he knew was that she was, well, doing it. _Helping him._

It was quiet. Her milky soft hands gripped his shoulder, then his thigh, holding him in place as she wrapped the bandage around his knee. There was a faint smell of metal floating about around them and he could taste iron on his tongue. _Blood_.

"You need to be more careful," She scowled at him, tucking a stray strand of raven-black hair behind her ear, "You could've died." He smiled at that, emerald green eyes slipping shut in contentment.

"Yeah, but if I was careful, you would've instead." His voice was airy, relaxed even, as if he didn't just bust his knee and nearly die by knife all in a successful attempt to save her life. He giggled when she scoffed at him.

"I can handle myself, thanks."

_.. No. No, you can't._

He wished that was how it turned out.

Instead, that faint metal smell was strong as he watched the love of his life be murdered in front of him. The calming silence was broken by a piercing scream of pain and the clink of the knife being dropped to the ground as he slammed the fiend against the wall, rage burning through his skull. But by the time there was blood on his hands once again, she was gone. The taste of iron left, only to be replaced with the taste of salt from the tears spilling out of his eyes

The taste still lingered, even now, with the cherry blossoms and buttercups swaying from the soft breeze of spring. Her stone sat in the middle; His fingers lingered for a moment too long and he felt a ping in his chest. He stuck out like a sore thumb, alone and wearing all black in a field of pink and yellow. Brick would've told him to get over it. Boomer would've pitied him. Hell, he pitied himself; He could've saved her, but he didn't.

His heart ached as he stepped away from the bough, leaving for a year only to return again.

 

_Now of my three score years and ten,_

_Twenty will not come again,_

_And take from seventy springs a score,_

_It only leaves me fifty more.._

**Author's Note:**

> y'all it's short but idk i just got inspiration outta NOWHERE it hit me like a TRUCK


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